PROLOGUE - Boomboxes and Manipulation

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Ink sat in the Doodle Sphere, like any other day. But, something caught his eye-lights. A new AU had been made! "Hm? What's this?" Ink pondered, looking closer. An unnamed AU? Or, more like the Anti-Void. It was empty, besides some piles of junk and a large, green sofa. There were groups of Fresh, as well. Ink chuckled quietly, not noticing a portal had appeared behind him. The figure slowly creeps closer, as Ink turns. "H-Huh?!" Ink closes his eye-sockets.

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"YOOO, WA'ZZUP, INK-BROSKI?! TOTES REAL NICE PLACE YA' GOT HERE!" It was Fresh. Ink opens his eye-sockets, blinking. His eye-lights switched shapes and colors. "Oh! Hiya, Fresh! I didn't see you there, haha!" Fresh's eyebrows raise. "Ah, totes chill, mah radical bro-tato-chip!" Fresh was no longer yelling, at least. He also had a shiny, gold boombox. It had quiet, but clear 90's funk playing. Ink looks to the side. "Wait, what're we talking about again..?" Fresh responds to Ink being forgetful, "Oh! Jus' remembered, my radical artistic-dawgerino! Yo' RAAAAAAD neighborhood skele-pal is here ta' ask yo' 'dis radical question!" Fresh grins wider than normal. "Okay, Fresh. What's your question?" If Fresh had ears, his smile would be ear-to-ear at this rate. "Me an' my radical broskis back at da' rad-funky-top void of ours was wonderin' if we could... How do I say this, yo? Get full permission of yo' radical Doodle-home, my artistic homeboy-dawg?" Ink blinks. "OH! You want to be able to go here when you please? Of course!" Ink gives Fresh a device. It's a small, watch-like teleporter! "Thanks a mil', Ink broski! But, uh... We need ya' for somethin'. Something, well, 'radical'." Ink accepts, going into the Fresh Void.

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The whole place is full of dozens upon dozens of Fresh. Fresh!Errors, Fresh, Fresh!G!Sans-es, you name it. They were all staring at Ink... Speaking of Ink, he suddenly feels light-headed. Was it because Fresh knocked him up side the head with a bat? Most likely! THUD! Ink passes out.

The sound of freakish crawling and squirming is heard.

A radical FRESH POOF is heard, and Ink was never seen again that day.

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